


we were too busy makin' hurricanes

by tazernkaner



Series: I'll make sure to keep my distance [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Patrick plays for Buffalo, Sharpy never goes to Dallas, long distance, so this is all an AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 06:40:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9479732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tazernkaner/pseuds/tazernkaner
Summary: “What do you think, Tazer? What bar would you like to go too?” Sharpy asks. There's an amused tilt to his voice though, a leering smirk on his face. He knows Jonny never goes out when they're in Buffalo.Jonny plays for Chicago, Patrick plays for Buffalo and they've been hooking up for years.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a going to be a four part series. Not much story line thus far so this is basically just fluff laced with a little angst because that's who I am as a person. 
> 
> I don't own any characters it's all make believe yada yada.

_******March 2016** _

 

The goal that Sharpy scores in overtime not only wins them the game, but also clinched their spot in the playoffs.

It was pretty much a given that they were going to make the playoffs, Jonny hadn't been worried. Still though, when the buzzer sounds he jumps off the bench with the rest of his team, skating over to the huddle and wrapping his arms around whoever he can get ahold of.

It's always a feeling of great relief once you have your playoff spot secured.

In the midst of the excitement, Jonny happens to turn his head and catch sight of the Sabres players skating towards the bench, heads hung in disappointment. He looks away quickly before it ruins the moment for him.

They leave the ice promptly, grinning and laughing all the way back to the locker room. The atmosphere is much better than after the second period, when they were heading back down 4-2 and pissed off about not being able to get anything at the net.

Jonny doesn't say much when they're in the locker room, just tells the team that they're fucking great and he loves every one of them.

The conversation dissolves into where they're going to celebrate, because they're headed back home tomorrow after a road trip and there's no reason not to go out, basically.

“What do you think, Tazer? What bar would you like to go too?” Sharpy asks. There's an amused tilt to his voice though, a leering smirk on his face.

Jonny ducks his head, busying himself with the laces on his skates. “Think I'm going to skip it, tonight,” he says, trying to sound casual. Maybe Sharpy will let it go, he prays.

“Is that so?” He hums instead, because he's an ill mannered asshole who can't seem to mind his own business. “Our very own captain, not going to celebrate the win?”

Jonny’s eyes shift around the room, trying to calculate who’s looking their way and listening to the conversation. He looks back at Sharpy, giving him a pleading look.

“Next time,” he says, smiling warily at the younger guys who don't seem to understand what's happening. He’d really fucking like to keep it that way.

“Next time, when we’re not in Buffalo, you mean?” Sharpy presses, not knowing when to let things go.

“Sharpy,” Jonny says flatly.

“Go get a shower,” Sharpy says, waving his hand at Jonny. “Can't smell bad for your girl.”

Jonny sighs heavily, scratching at the back of his neck. He sees Shawsy elbow Sadder in the gut and whisper something. Which is fine. If the rookies believe Jonny has a secret girl in Buffalo, he's okay with that.

He's the first one showered and ready to go.

“Hey,” Seabs says on his way out, clapping Jonny on the back. “Tell Kane we say better luck next time.”

Seabs is quiet, unlike Sharpy, keeping his tormenting between them. Jonny’s face still flushes red as he nods at the floor.

“Will do,” he lies. “See you later.”

He doesn't get on the team bus, passes it and keeps walking towards the parking lot for the Sabres players and staff. He pulls his coat tighter around his neck and beanie further down, doing his best to keep a low profile.

It's fucking hard when he has to climb into a god damn hummer.  
  
Patrick is already there in the driver's seat, looking smiley and content as he sings along to whatever pop song he's got playing.

“Hey,” Jonny says as he hoists himself into the ridiculous vehicle. He doesn't take his beanie off, slides low into the seat so no one will catch sight of him.

“Hey,” Patrick grins back, seemingly happy despite his team just losing.

“Nice goal,” Jonny tells him as he buckles up his seat belt. It was a beautiful one timer, top corner shot that Crow had no chance of stopping.

“We fuckin’ lost,” Patrick grumbles, lips slumping into the pout that Jonny had been expecting.

“You played an exceptional team,” Jonny clucks, faking sympathy.

Patrick smirks again, dimples popping into his cheeks as he shakes his head softly. “I hate you.”

Jonny stretches, feeling a twinge of pain in his back from a bad hit he took in the first. “You don't,” he counters, confidently.  
  
Patrick rolls his eyes. “Let's get out of here.”

Jonny nods his agreements, slouching into the seat and getting comfortable. “Kay,” he mutters, feeling sleepy. It's been a long road trip. Normally after one like this, he can't wait to get back to Chicago and enjoy his own bed. Normally, though, he's not in Buffalo.

“Oh no you don't,” Patrick snaps, sending a stink eye in Jonny’s direction. The ever present smile makes it playful. “One night, Toews, can't waste it falling asleep on me.”

Jonny wouldn't dream of it. Nights like this, where he gets to see Patrick, only come once every few months. He plans on taking advantage of every minute, once they're alone. He says as much out loud and watches the way Patrick swallows hard.

“Let's get the fuck to my place then,” Patrick says as he takes a sharp turn.

Jonny sits back and watches Patrick, studying his profile. He doesn't get to see him much like this, usually sees him from a TV. They don't talk a lot either, the occasional text or two between visits. A good game or chirp here and there.

It's always good when they're together again, though. Simple and easy in a way that Jonny appreciates. It's not always easy, being in the closet. With Patrick he has someone who knows exactly what he's going through, who understands the need for secrecy. There's no worry of Patrick selling a tell all story for a quick buck or two.

He studies the sort curve of Patrick’s lips, his sharp chin and cheekbones. The tiny lines around his eyes that weren't there when Jonny first met him. He's handsome, strikingly so and Jonny thinks about how lucky he was to stumble into this with Patrick.

He doesn't have a label for it. It's certainly not a relationship, and Jonny finds it hard to even call it a friendship. It’s good, whatever it is. They're both happy with it and it works for them. Jonny knows there are judgments from the few people who do know about their situation, but he also knows that they can't possibly understand his and Patrick's side of things. They don't know what it's like.

“It really was a great goal,” Jonny says because he wants to say something and he's not sure how. “You played well.”

Patrick tries to hide his smile by sucking his lips into his mouth, but Jonny catches it anyway, the way his cheeks puff out and his lips drag up at the corners. “Thanks,” Patrick says softly. “Congrats on the playoffs.”

“You guys are in, too,” Jonny comments. Maybe they're not 100% clinched but they’d have to go on a unlikely losing streak to not make it at this point.

“We’ll see. Perhaps we’ll meet in the cup final,” Patrick jokes.

“Lot of games to win before that,” Jonny laughs too.

Patrick turns to him and grins and Jonny’s stomach does something funny.

***

“Hungry?” Patrick asks as he kicks off his boots and starts unraveling his scarf.

Jonny watches as the line of Patrick’s throat is exposed, licks his lips in response.

He's hungry in the way he always is after a game, down on calories and needing to refuel.

“No,” Jonny says despite this. “I’m good.”

Patrick nods as he hangs up his coat and then reaches for Jonny’s.

“My Canadian manners are rubbing off on you,” he comments while handing it off.

“Oh, fuck off, you're as big an asshole as any American I know,” Patrick chirps back, eyes dancing mischievously.

Jonny tries to look affronted, offended at any comparison of him to an American. But he can't stop himself from smiling, which is ridiculous. But it's always like that when he's around Patrick.

“If I'm such an asshole, maybe I should go then,” Jonny smirks in response, one eyebrow arched in a challenge. He's bluffing, obviously, and Patrick knows it but he plays along anyway.

He takes one step closer to Jonny, crowding in on him and grabbing ahold of his wrist. “You're not going anywhere,” he says darkly, fingers clasping tightly. His breath is hot against Jonny’s skin, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to bristle.

Jonny uses his free hand to hook a finger under Patrick’s chin, tilting his face upwards so Jonny can meet their lips together.

And then they're kissing, hot and fast and sweet all at once. Jonny melts into it, the touches and the taste and the smell of Patrick.

He lets Patrick jam his tongue into his mouth and feels the warmth pooling in his stomach.

It’d been months since the last time they’d seen each other like this, alone and freely able to do whatever they wanted.

And Jonny wanted Patrick; there wasn't anything that could stop him from this. The building could collapse around them, he thinks, and he wouldn't let their lips part for a second.

***

“Fuck,” Patrick groans as Jonny rolls off him. His face is bright red, splotches of heat trailing down his neck and mixed in with the bruises starting to form from Jonny’s teeth. His curls are wild in some places, springy from fingers being ran through, and flat in others, pressed against his skin with sweat.

Jonny thinks he looks like a fucking master piece, all worn out and used like this.

“Tired,” Patrick mumbles then, squirming down so he's pressed against the line of Jonny’s body. They're still naked and slicked with sweat.

“You don't want to clean up?” Jonny asks around his own yawn. It's a redundant question, his eyes are already starting to droop as he slumps down against Patrick.

“Sleep, Jon,” Patrick commands, throwing an arm over his chest and nuzzling in. “Lots of time for that later.”

Jonny nods, even though there's really not. He's got to be back at the hotel by 7am if he wants to catch his flight. His time with Patrick is always short and sweet, but he falls asleep too quickly to be sad about it.

***

The clock says 3:07am when Jonny stirs, woken by the heat from the room.

He kicks the blankets off his legs and rolls back over. He blinks sleepily as he looks at Patrick, still knocked out and drooling a little from his wide open mouth.

It's endearing in a way it shouldn't be.

Jonny wants to wake him up with a kiss and not break it until he's forced to leave to make his flight. But Patrick looks so peaceful that he just snuggles in closer and lets him sleep.

***

“Jon, hey, Jonny, wake up,” Patrick is saying, jostling his shoulder.

Jonny groans and blinks, swivelling to cast a look at the clock. 6:36 am, it reads.

“Hey,” Patrick says softly. “Time to get up. Want some coffee?”

“Mm, yes please,” he sighs, struggling to sit up. The blanket pools around his waist.  
  
Patrick is smiling at him blindingly.

“What?”

“Nothing... Just, you look cute, when you're sleepy like that.” Patrick looks down and blushes as soon as he says it.

“You look cute when you're drooling on your pillow,” Jonny counters, because he hasn't had his coffee yet and he's got no filter.

The smile Patrick gives him is worth it, filter or not.

“Alright, come on then. Get your clothes on.” Patrick is already dressed, bundled in a Buffalo hoodie. Navy looks good on him - Jonny can't help but be stuck on the idea of him in Blackhawks red, though. It's not a thought he's ever had before and it startles him.

“Too early,” he says to Patrick and himself. Too early for feelings.

“As much as I wish you could stay here and miss your flight, I'm kind of afraid of Seabrook. I think he’d beat the shit out of me for kidnapping his star captain.”

“Alright, alright, I'm getting up. No one’s going to touch your pretty face.”

“You're always nicer in the mornings,” Patrick comments as he holds out Jonny’s pants. “You say the sweetest things.”

Jonny rolls his eyes at himself. “That's because I'm too tired to know better. Didn't you say something about coffee?”

They drink mostly in silence, ankles hooked together underneath the table. Jonny feels more like a normal human with every sip, but there's also a sense of dread that starts to climb up his chest and creates a lump in his throat.

After they're finished Patrick stands to get his keys, and they kiss their goodbyes before they leave. It's their routine; too risky to do it around the hotel with so many familiar faces around.

They talk about their families and things that have happened over the past couple months. They don't talk much in between their nights together. Sometimes Patrick will send him a funny meme that he says made him think of Jonny, and sometimes they’ll talk on the phone every once in awhile. It's easier not to though.

This is the last time the Hawks face the Sabres this season, and short of them both making the Stanley Cup finals, he won't be seeing Patrick again until the World Cup in September.

They don't get together in the off season. Jonny’s not sure why but neither has ever mentioned it in the years they've been doing this. So they just don't.

“So,” Patrick drawls as he cuts the engine a few blocks from Jonny's hotel. “I guess... I’ll see you in September then?”

Jonny licks his lips and resists the urge to lunge across the space between them. “Yeah. Better bulk up over off season if you want to stand a chance at beating us.”  
  
Patrick punches him in the shoulder. “Okay. Get out. You just made this a lot easier.”

Jonny rolls his eyes but unbuckles his seatbelt. “See you, Pat.”

“See you, Jon.”

He gets to the bus just as his teammates are filing out the back entrance, all looking various degrees of awake.

Sharpy opens his mouth as soon as he sees Jonny, but there must be something written on his face because he shuts it promptly and wraps an arm around his shoulder instead.

“Sucks,” is all he says and Jonny is grateful for it.

“Yeah,” Jonny agrees, scuffing his shoe along the payment. “Fucking sucks.”  



End file.
